


Time is an illusion

by Dhely



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:17:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dhely/pseuds/Dhely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I't an AU.<br/>During a long, bloody war someone find a way to win it.<br/>At what cost ?</p><p>Thanks to haisai_andagii, who helped me with my English, and supported me whit hers ideas,<br/>Tank you to HenryS for the chats about our loved twins!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanda

_Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”_  
_― Cormac McCarty, All the Pretty Horses[  
](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4178.Cormac_McCarthy)_

 

Wanda had just left the jet and headed to security.

Years ago, airport immigration procedures consisted of a quick look at a passport, a few questions, and maybe a pass through a metal detector. But now, they were a series of biometric and psychometric analyses.

She smiled at Gillian, a friend of airport security, sat behind the console.

"You’re all right?" Wanda asked her.

"Yes, all quiet. You? The mission was a success?"

Wanda nodded.

"Boring, but everything went well. I’m very happy to be at home."

“We’ve missed you.” Gillian said as she waved her hand toward the door.  "Please, you can enter.”

Wanda gave her a smile before moving on to the exit. The long corridor was empty - save for her and the soldiers occupying the small airport. 

She narrowed her eyes against the bright light of dawn as she left the construction.

A soldier in uniform snapped to attention.

“Madame,” he said, pointing to a car waiting by the curb.

Wanda knew him - Major Samson. They had fought together, they cried together, they were wounded together.

She got in the car with a sig.

The war had beenlong - long and bloody. Many were killed, and everyone was now crying many deaths. The world was no longer what it had been.  Perhaps, it would never be again.  Nearly eight billion people once inhabited the Earth. Now, only one-twentieth. The wounds were still fresh. Peace was young and foreign to those that only wanted to rebuild what they lost.

The road in front of her was wide and smooth. On the left she could see the ocean, large and bright, wonderful. In the distance, to the southwest she could see a high mountain range always snowy, sparkling against the blue sky. Everything was quiet. The city was still waking up, and there were only a few people on the streets.

Wanda smiled feeling at home, finally.

Samson brought the car along one of the main boulevards, next to one of the secondary entrances of the park.

 “Thank you, sir, leave me here. I’ll walk home," Wanda said.

He turned toward her, astonished.

“But, madam, Milord ordered ..”

“Don’t worry, Major.”

She climbed out and walked slowly through the gates.

She entered the park, the breeze coming off the ocean fluttered the leaves.

Wanda turned her head and saw a long metal wall. It started to rust, its once glittering surface was now blurred.  But it would remain there forever.  A multitude of names were engraved on the wall.

The names of the fallen.

Her eyes became misty. She ran her  fingers across her forehead, pushing back her red hair.

The first name was her brother’s name: Quicksilver Pietro Maximoff.

Their father didn’t want it. But everyone else insisted.

Wanda had not been able to stop crying during the entire duration of the ceremony.

Pietro was not the first to fall, but it was his fall to indicate the beginning of the end.

Pietro had been ..

She quickened her pace.

She couldn’t think about him, now.

 Wanda entered the central square. The fountain had been restored, adding to the overall beauty and elegance of the place.

Wanda smiled at a couple of people, who greeted and smiled back at her.

The park, which was once a camp, had became a city full of homes, hospitals, and infrastructure. There were many things still left unfinished, but the Palace, which was their military base against the invaders that nearly destroyed the Earth, stood tall in the Central Square. It sparkled in the clear white light of dawn.

Her father built it, along with Lorna and many others who helped.

Wanda went up the stairs to the entrance. As she came into the lobby, the soldiers on guard recognized her and immediately snapped to attention. 

In the distance, she heard a young voice and a laughter.

"Move! 're always late!”

The air began to bend all around her, giving her a familiar feeling. 

It came to a grinding stop.

Wanda saw a silver lock of hair across a forehead, underscored with shining, blue eyes.

"Mom!" He shouted.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She smiled.

"Thomas"

She spread his arms and hugged him.

"We were waiting for you tomorrow! Are you okay? How did it go? They signed? Do you think .."

She looked at him with regret.

He was young and vibrant.

As fast as Pietro was.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps from behind.

"Damn, Tom!” someone shouted angrily. 

Wanda turned around with Tommy still her arms and saw his twin - Billy.  He smiled brightly.  "Mom!”

Billy hugged her, she squeezed them both.

"I missed all of you."

Both looked at her in the eyes, smiling. She considered them still children, but they were men.

Warriors.

They had fought with courage and spirit of sacrifice, and fortunately they hadn’t been taken away from her.

"You too! We have to tell you a lot of things! Grandfather Erik .."

"You said you'd bring us with you!" Tommy whined.

Billy snorted, she laughed.

"You shouldn’t already be at training, now?"

They looked at one another.

"Sure, but Bill’s always late.”

"Yes, ‘cause you enjoy yourself to make me waste my time!"

Wanda ran a hand over their arms.

"Where is your Grandfather?"

Bill waved his hand.

"He is in a meeting with aunt Lorna and with... actually, I don’t know who else.  They are discussing for improvements to be made to city’s aqueduct, if I remember correctly. “

 Tommy nodded.

"But he took security with him," he added.  "We saw him go down about an hour ago..."

"All right, thank you. Now: you two have to go. We'll talk tonight at dinner."

The boys looked like they wanted to say something, but they stopped themselves.

Wanda could not help but think how mature they had become.

"Yes mom.”

"We’ll see you tonight, mum.”

"We're glad you're back.”

They ran off, looking very much like a younger version of what she and Pietro had been. 

She ran a hand over her eyes: everything had changed, everything had fallen apart.

Wanda gritted her teeth and continued on. She walked the corridors and until she found the interior gardens.  The morning light warmed her as it bathed the gardens in a glorious golden light.

She continued on, walking past a row of windows that led to a conference room.  She looked and saw her father sitting at a table covered with papers. Lorna stood at his side.  

That was once her brother's place.

Lorna saw her, waved a hand in greeting. Wanda tried to reciprocate with a smile as she walked on.

She left the gardens and found herself in a series of corridors. Each one she walked through became smaller; their doors simpler. Wanda ascended a set of stairs that she knew would take her to the heart of the Palace's military base. Heavy slabs of metal sliding, and she stood in front of the heaviest.

Only very few people had access to their private rooms.

Automatic sensors checked her retina, her brain waves and thousand other things until the heavy metal door slid open with a muffled sound.

It opened onto a suite set with large windows with a view to their private interior gardens. Her father designed the room for comfort. He created even a music room complete with a piano. No one ever played it.  But it was there, elegant and dark. 

Wanda stared at it. In her mind, she saw her brother's long fingers on the white and black keys. It had been years. Or maybe it had never happened, and it was all just a dream.

Wanda tore her eyes away from the piano and headed towards the bedrooms. 

She followed the corridor; every step was a pain.

She came to a fork and turned left, passing the children’s room; Lorna’s bedroom was on her left, and her father’s on her right, then her own.

Wanda didn’t stop. She kept going until the corridor ended in front of a blank wall.

She reached out, her fingertips pressed against the cold surface.

She had to concentrate, but only for a moment.

A small spell - she, Lorna, and her father had the key, and the key for each of them was different.

In front of her appeared a passage. A white metal door.

Wanda stepped back in front of the door that held the weapon that had allowed them to survive. Their biggest secret: no one, not even their allies knew of its existence.

Not even her children.

It open up onto a passage on a tall and narrow spiral staircase.

Wanda moved slowly - step by step - until she found herself in front of a door.

The last door.

She had to go on.

A step. A single step.

She leaned on the knob and pushed.

She had to stay still for a few seconds to make sure that her eyes adjust to the dim light.

It was a large room, the windows were all opened but covered by curtains.

 Wanda knew what she could see from there-the ocean, sparkling and wonderful; the mountains, icy and looming. 

The room smelled like snow and salt mingled together.

It looked like a spell.

Wanda was not sure that it was not.

Wanda was not sure of anything.

And he was there.

She felt her heart stop.

A man sat in a large, comfortable chair.  He wore light-colored clothing.

He lifted his face to look at her,  as if seeing her might made him know something that he didn’t: a useless gesture but reassuring.

"Pietro." her voice was quavered.

Her brother smiled and stood up. He was tall and thin, elegant. His bones seemed light and fragile as glass. She took his face in her hands: the profile was his, his cheekbones, the shape of hiseyes, hislips. His eyes were bright as they had never been, and his skin radiated an incredible heat. His power had been gone so far, with such force, it had been so strained that everything in him adjusted.

He was Pietro, and at the same time..

“Wanda."

He smiled. A pale smile, beautiful and distant. 

"I know you?  Or maybe I know I will know you..”

She reached out and stroked his back. His hair now were long and beautiful, clear as moonlight: they had let it grow. Pietro kept it short because it was easier to run this way.

But Pietro didn’t run anymore.

"You know me. I came to see how you are."

She stroked his hand, he simply nodded.

"Okay."

He sat down, again, his eyes chasing after shadows only known to himself.  He saw the future. He saw the infinite possibilities that was opening into the present. He saw wonderful things, unbelievable things.

It was ecause of him that they had won the war, that they were there, that her children were alive. All of them were alive. 

But Pietro was lost …

Wanda sat at his feet and rested her head on his knees.

She closed her eyes, feeling his hands through her hair - gentle, soft, delicate.

She felt the tears on her face, but she was still.

Pietro didn’t run anymore, he didn’t  recognize anyone.

He remembered nothing of what happened; of what had been. Or rather, perhaps Pietro knew but was unable to distinguish his past from his visions. 

They escaping through the snow; Wanda laughing and dancing around the camp fire; they facing the world together, hand-in-hand.  And then, everything vanished.

Wanda stifled a sob.

“Please, don’t cry.”

His voice was gentle, but it wasn’t her brother’s.

“Please, tell me what you see.”


	2. Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part2- Erik's POV

"Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.” - Kurt Vonnegut  


 

 

Power was an heavy burden to carry on their shoulders. All of them had learned it many years before.

Dr. McCoy took off his glasses with a sigh. He looked exhausted: the hospital was full, always full of wounded and dying. And the building could no longer withstand another heavy and close-ranged attacks. 

 Erik looked at Dr. McCoy when he sat in his office.  He thought about why he was here and not on the front lines where he was needed., but, if the doctor called him to discuss medical affairs, it meant that the situation was more serious than he feared.

"Erik, I don’t understand."

There were not many people who called him by name, but Hank was one of those people.

"What are you talking about?"

"Pietro."

Erik stretched his lips thin averting his eyes.

He did not want to talk about it - about something he was not ready to face- and Dr. McCoy seemed to know it.  He didn’t waited for a reaction.

“His power always allowed him to recover more quickly than anyone else - except for those that possess a specific healing factor.  But this time, it seems he is getting worse.  Normally, his wounds would be healed by now but with his power is working at full capacity without any effect and it’s draining him.  I don't know why... His wounds aren’t healing, his pain isn’t diminishing, but his speed is always perpetually active. He is consuming too much energy.”

Erich clasped his hands behind his back.

“Surely, there is something you can do for him...“

"We're trying. I want you to be sure of our efforts. I haven’t lost hope.”

Erich put a hand on his shoulder

"I know it."

Erik neither found other words, nor the breath to tell him something else.

Nor was there room for hope. They were now beyond any hope.

Erik had fought countless battles and wars. He knew that not even a miracle would save them, now.

Their enemies were too many, too well armed, too powerful and too prepared. They knew them, they had studied for decades their powers, their ways of fighting, everything.

Every battle was a massacre.

Erik looked out into the corridor. Stretchers were everywhere. Patients moaned. The staff was scant.  He felt something heavy on his heart, like a dark and thick hood, like pitch.

He kept it secret - known only tby himself and a few others- that they had chance to turn the tide against the invading forces and actually win the war.  But such power was responsibility, and it was heavy to carry. He would have liked to be able to refuse it but, looking around the hospital, he knew he could not. 

He turned back to Dr. McCoy.

“It’s not necessary he’ll stay here, Hank. I believe you've already done all that it could be done for him, and now he just needs time. I cannot allow you to focus on only one patient. Not now."

It had to be said, even though it pained Erik; even though it felt as if his heart was tearing in two.

Hank looked at him, then nodded.

There was not much else to answer.

\---

Erik stood here for a long time.

He was tired, dirty. He smelled of death and blood and sweat and ozone, as well as after every battle.

He only wanted to take a shower, put on clean clothes and sleep for a few hours.

But he stood here until he willed himself to move finally. He put his helmet on a shelf.

The room was small, just a bed and a desk, all-metal, even the walls. There was no windows, only the white light of the neon and the constant hum of the air filter. It was like a coffin.

And the sound of soft snoring.

Erik saw that Pietro was sleeping, but he did not sleep peacefully: he looked tired - he was always exhausted lately- his face drawn and full of suffering, his expressions tense, almost pained. 

No, Pietro was not sleeping.

He opened his eyes slowly. Erik saw him struggle to focus as he came to his son’s side.

"Pietro."

He smiled.

"Father."

He looked at him. His eyes were brighter than they had ever been, as if behind that dense blue there was an energy like a fire that fed  _and_  ate him alive. Erik could feel the heat coming from him.

"You were right. The time and place were perfect. There was not a single problem."

Pietro closed his eyes as Erik ran a hand over his forehead.

“I don't know if I can do it, but I am happy I learned how...  – Pietro frowned.  - I wished I was able to do it sooner, Father.  We lost many .. “

"Not this time.”

Erich ran his hand through Pietro’s silver hair; he felt a slight vibration through his fingers. 

Erik felt defeated - he had lost many things - many people, many parts of his heart throughout his life. He wondered if he could survive what Pietro had been through.

His body was quick to adapt to any situation but now...

He sighed and feared was an old fool.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Pietro looked so young. So fragile: he had never been this way. He didn’t remember him being so tired and drained.

His memory lapses were becoming more frequent and widespread. At first he thought it was exhaustion, but now ..

He felt him relax under his caresses as he drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

"You have learned very well how to bend your power according to your needs, Pietro. But I’m afraid that you are pushing  yourself too hard, you're going too far. I cannot reach you, where are you going, none of us can. Nobody can bring you back."

It was useless, totally useless, he knew. But he had to say it.

Pietro seemed to smile in response without opening again his eyes.

Then he reached out, his fingers touched Erik’s wrist, in silence. They remained motionless for a long moment.

"Father, can you do me a favor?"Pietro asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure.."

"When it's over, if we survive,– he blinked, his eyes became distant, dull. The vibration inside him changed pace, but his hand clung to his wrist with force . – I-I would like to rest in a place with many windows, father. A lot of  light, not .. in a box like here. I wish to smell the air and to see the light. And the music! Please, wherever I am, I need music .. "

Erich shook his hand vigorously.

"What music would you like?" he asked, fighting to keep his tone steady.

Pietro's smile widened without seeing him. Without seeing anything.

"Chopin. The Etudes."

"You'll have even a piano, all for you. I promise. – Erik whispered - But don’t go now. Stay, you're not .. you're tired, you must rest. Please, Pietro.”

“A piano..- his son muttered - I’d like to play it. Really. Sometimes I miss it. The keys and .. ” Pietro closed his eyes  “It will be nice. I know it will.”


	3. Lorna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorna's PoV

"The past is never dead. It's not even past.” 

\- William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun  


 

It was always cold in Pietro’s rooms.

The air conditioners were always set to full speed because he could not stand the heat.

In winter, however, when it snowed, Pietro seemed to lose his mind. He would roll in the snow, lying in the iced-over grass for hours, staring at the sky.

Nobody knew what he was thinking in those moments - he did not say to anyone, even to Wanda- but he seemed so happy that no one dared to stop him.

Why should they? Lorna thought to herself as she finished arranging the flowers in a crystal vase. They were white and fragrant, beautiful.

She allowed herself a smile.

"And then, you know who I met at the park? Anthony!” she continued, turned towards her brother. “ The last week he told me he would have to go somewhere with his squadron!"

He looked at her with interest and curiosity.

"And Anthony is ..?"

She waved vaguely.

"A fool! If you remember only one thing, Anthony is a fool! Never trust a world that men tells you.. “ she sighed “Yes, I know I have the entire Palace Security at my disposal.. but if I don’t trust a person I could never go out with him, right?”

 “I think you’re right.”

Lorna nodded, leaning against the table.

Pietro stared at her for a long moment with an half smile on his face.

"You are really weird now, you know? “ she said “Not that before you were -  well, you've always been a bit strange indeed. But now ...”

Her brother tilted his head curiously at her.

He listened to her patiently , attentively for hours –without complaint- even if he did not understand half the things she said.

Once, he had been a warrior, a soldier, a hero. But now, Pietro was something very different –only a kind of shell that contained his power.

Lorna lowered her eyes. It was cruel.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked and looked toward her brother.

 “What?”

“Because I'm weird and it seems to make you sad. "

She smiled

"No, it’s not your fault. I was thinking about the past.”

He ran a hand through his hair. He said nothing, just looked at her.

It had been a long time since then, from that speech.

What words he had used?

‘I had to die.’

 

 

_The explosions, the screams, the adrenaline- everything was a painful, exhausting blur._

_Each breath was a struggle as Lorna glared blearily through the dust and the smoke of the battle. But they would not defeat her!_

_His squadron was pinned down by enemy fire, she could hear the screams, smell the blood of the fallen._

_Then, a noise crackled to life on her intercom._

_“Polaris? Quicksilver here! I’m in position. Rendezvous  in the green quadrant in ten. I repeat, rendezvous in the green quadrant in ten minutes from now.”_

_She did not know that Pietro could continue to fight. He was an excellent warrior and they were lucky to have him at their side. But, as she watched another of her squadron fall, Lorna filled with dread._

_“Roger. You’re already here?”_

_She heard some distant explosions over the comm._

_"No, I'm down to the bay. I’m covering our west wing. Remember: the green quadrant Polaris. Hurry!”_

_Lorna ordered her unit forward but moving between shots and explosions was not easy. But, by some miracle, they made it._

_She radioed her brother immediately._

_“Polaris here. We’re at the rendezvous. I see..”_

_Lorna fell over - a massive explosion caused her to lose her balance. The huge shock wave shattered walls, crumbled structures, blew dust and debris everywhere._

_But over the noise, over the destruction Lorna heard a scream growing._

_The voice of their father._

_His power - pure magnetic force - seemed to fill the whole sky in an otherworldly glow. She felt it on her  skin and inside of her.  It burned the sky – a terrible and painful fire of magnetic energies._

_Lorna had seen the anger. Lorna knew the fury. The pain.  The rage. TLorna had never seen a explosion of power like that._

_When the dust finally settled, the beach by the bay was gone._

_It was just a vitrified surface- wide and glittering._

_Suddenly, Wanda’s panicked voice broke through on her intercom._

_“Pietro! Pietro please! Pietro!”_

_Pietro didn’t responded._

_They wept him as if he were dead._

_He was died._

_For her. For all of them._

_When, three days later, Lorna found him in front of her, pale and suffering, but alive, she wanted to kill him with her bare hands._

_“You lied!” Wanda was full of rage._

_“I had to die.” Pietro said while they stood around him in that claustrophobic room, hidden in the heart of the military structure – a place that only the four of them knew. “You cannot protect me forever; and in a few weeks I will not remember anything. They all have to think I'm dead.”_

_Wanda hid her face in her hands, sobbing._

_Their father was stiff and ashen._

_Only Lorna was able to ask why._

_"Because I can tell you how to win the war. But I have to be dead to the world to do it. We must keep my powers a secret. We must keep_ me _a secret."_

_Pietro smiled a sad, knowing smile._

_Wanda sobbed harder._

_Erick looked away in silence._

_“Why?” Lorna asked, again._

_Pietro looked at her._

_“Because I love all of you.. even if you three are even so boring..”_

 

 

"Sometimes I miss you, you know, even if you were an arrogant and insufferable asshole."

Her voice trembled.

She looked at Pietro, straight into his eyes again.

But they were not her brother’s eyes anymore.

"Me?" he asked curiously. He was amazed – sweet and kind. Open. As he had never been.

Lorna sighed approaching a panel against the wall. He turned on the stereo.

"You sure don’t want me to change the track?"

The piano filled the air, which seemed to shake and vibrate around them.

Pietro smiled, leaning back, eyes closed.

“No, please. I love this.”

Lorna kissed his forehead.

It was time to go. She had a lot to do.

"Later Wanda’ll come and see you, and before tonight also our father will come, too."

He nodded silently.

Calm and quiet and patient.

All that Pietro had never been.

That he would never have been.

Lorna left, closing the door behind her.

She pressed her fingers on her lips and cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!  
> Thank you again to my Betareader!


End file.
